The Day With Yellow Flowers
by HecateA
Summary: It has been years since anybody's been kind to Sirius, and kindness was not what he thought he'd come to Godric Hollow to find—not after all these years and with so much missing. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **Assignment 8, Foreign Exchange: Other Magical Schools, Task #7. The New York Institute (Shadowhunters): Write about a story taking place in a church or cathedral.

**Warnings:** Grief; Survivor's Guilt; Depression allusions

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**Stacked with:** Hogwarts, Shadows of Consequence, Hangman

**Individual Challenge(s): **Bloomin' Time; Black Ribbon; Black Ribbon Redux; Gryffindor MC; Bow Before the Blacks; Summer Vacation; Seeds; Tissue Warning; No Proof; Golden Times; Old Shoes; Themes & Things A (Reflection); Themes & Things B (Loss); Themes & Things C (Flowers); Rian-Russo Inversion; In a Flash; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux

**Representation(s): **(in brief, why does this fill fit the challenges you are submitting to)

**Bonus Challenge(s):** Under the Bridge; Where Angels Fear; Second Verse (Rock of Ages); Chorus (Some Beach)

**Tertiary Bonus Challenge(s):** NA

**Word Count:** 1668

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**The Day With Yellow Flowers **

At James and Lily's wedding, Sirius had done his best to flirt with a very handsome, very blond cousin of the bride's. And Sirius was so good at flirting, he didn't even have to try all that had. Besides, the beautiful cousin had been easy to talk to since he'd been completely engrossed with his doctoral research on the behavioural patterns of serial killers at Leeds. The subject itself hadn't been much of a turn-on, but that was how he'd learned that serial killers often returned to places where they had crimes or which reminded them of them.

Sirius wasn't sure if the Auror Department operated with this knowledge as well, but he knew that going back to Godric's Hollow was an overall bad idea. He'd only been out of Azkaban for three weeks, after all. It may even be so bad that Lily would call it one of his "no good, absolutely bad, very poor ideas."

He could almost hear her voice saying it as he looked at the tombstone she and James shared. That felt cruel.

He also knew that if he was going to be an idiot about this, about being in Godric's Hollow, he should at least do it as Padfoot. Now it was James' words echoing in his head from over a dozen years ago: "Well, if you _have _to do it, here's how, mate…"

But it wouldn't have felt right to stand before the tombstone as a dog when Lily and James had made him into so much of the man he was—had been, he supposed. He wasn't much now, but he was there at Godric's Hollow to pay his respects. He had no money to buy flowers or a wand to summon them, but he had his respects to give and tears to shed, now that he'd been away from the Dementors long enough to feel and shed them.

"I'm sorry," he said, not for the first time, tracing the names and dates on the stone. He wondered who had taken care of organizing the burial—Mad-Eye liked to do it for Order members, but maybe Dumbledore had done it himself. Or Remus, this sounded like a Remus thing to do. Suddenly Sirius hoped that Remus had been the one to do it though he immediately felt guilty about it since Remus would have had to do it on his own—so much on his own…

Lily and James didn't answer now, possibly because Sirius couldn't conjure any memories of things they'd said since this was so… so unthinkable.

Even when it started raining, Sirius wasn't drawn away from the stone. His muscles wouldn't budge, as if he was trying to make up for all the times he should have been there before—perhaps he would have brought Harry here so they could have done this together, if he had raised him as he should have. The lightning did jar him back to reality though; that much Lily would have an answer for. "You'll catch your death without lifting a finger, Sirius!" She said that about everything; if she thought he should be wearing something warmer than his leather jacket, if he forgot his umbrella on a rainy day….

He looked around the small cemetery. The city lamp posts and the glowing windows of the small church nearby were the only things keeping the darkness at bay, and even then the sheets of rain weren't making it any easier to see what was around him. Another clap of thunder convinced him that he should seek shelter before contemplating his next move. A few nights now, Padfoot had been able to look pitiful enough to secure shelter in generous Muggle family homes. It was probably violating a thousand decrees on magical law, but Sirius always transformed back, left thank you notes, and let himself out before anybody else in the house awoke. It was good to give Muggles a bit of mystery in their lives, he reckoned. But at this moment, thanks to the time and wretched weather, the streets of Godric's Hollow were deserted. His best option seemed to be to curl up under the church's awning.

And so he did, shrugging off his coat momentarily to wring out some of the water. He was shocked by the cold that hit him—cold so cold that he knew it would stick with him if he turned into Padfoot now.

He sighed and slid down to the floor, curling up against the stone wall. It was cold even if it was relatively dry, but it would have to do for the night.

Then, surprising the hell out of him which was ironic enough, the door swung open. An older man with a splash of white hair, neatly tended to, opened the door. He was dressed in black with a white collar poking out of his shirt, and cocked an eyebrow when he saw Sirius.

"It's a cold night to be outside," he said.

"Yes," Sirius agreed. He may have been raised by wolves, but he knew not to sass Muggle priests and reverends and such.

"Come be inside instead," the man said, opening the door wider.

"Oh, I couldn't…" Sirius said. "I'm not one of your parishioners, I couldn't impose…"

"I know very well that you're not," the man said. "But I couldn't leave you outside, could I?"

Sirius hesitated but the man was right. It was raining more ridiculously by the second and now the bottom of the man's pets were getting wet too.

He got up and followed the man inside. The church was simple; it had simple wooden pews and simple windows and a simple alter, but it looked well-lived in. Children's crafts decorated the walls and the community billboard next to the door was overflowing with flyers.

"Come in," the man said closing the door behind Sirius. "I was just getting around to dinner… I was out late tonight, at the hospital two towns over… It's in another parish, but they do dialysis there and some of our own get taken there sometimes…"

Sirius nodded along. The man didn't look away from him. That's when Sirius realized that he was being invited to supper.

"I couldn't…" Sirius said.

"A shame," the man said. "I'd love the company. Our choir director dropped off some fresh bread, too, and it should get eaten while it's still fresh. I reckon it will go well with the stew."

"Okay," Sirius said again. The man followed his gaze as Sirius looked around the church.

"Are you uncomfortable in churches?" the man asked. "Many people are—many people have good reasons to be, but I want you to know that you're welcome and safe here…"

"I appreciate that," Sirius said mechanically.

"Have you been here before?" the man asked.

"Once," Sirius nodded. For Harry's Christening—Lily had done it for her Muggle family, it had been kind of nice. Sirius had been told to wear a suit and he had, but this bloke wasn't the same one who had stood in front and said the words. Maybe if Lily and James had had a church wedding, Sirius would recognize the man before him.

"Happy memories?" the man asked again.

He nodded again.

"Yeah," Sirius said. "Yeah, but… the kind of happy that's a bit sad, because most things are sad. But most things are… are worse than this one. So that's something."

He nodded. "Well, why don't you stay here? Spend some time here, think of the happy parts. Whatever led to them is still here."

Sirius couldn't help but snicker. He looked up sheepishly then. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I… it's just not still here, it's gone."

"I did see you in the cemetery," the man said. "Whatever it is, I promise it's not gone. No matter how much time has passed or what has happened."

Sirius didn't answer. He just looked around again. When Harry had been Christened, there had been these yellow flowers everywhere. He couldn't remember what they'd been called.

"Why don't I bring our meal up?" the man said, finally.

"Okay," Sirius said.

"Sit," the man said.

Sirius nodded and sat on one of the piers. The little red books and booklets of psalms and hymns tucked in the back of the seats before him stirred a faint memory.

"I have a small apartment just downstairs, I won't be long…" the man promised.

"Do you really believe that?" Sirius blurted as he walked away.

He turned around.

"Believe what?"

"That time doesn't matter," Sirius said. "That… that things are still in place, when they really matter…"

The man nodded.

"I do," he said. "As a rule of thumb I don't talk about things I'm not very sure I believe it."

"Sounds like a good rule of thumb in your line of work, sir," Sirius said.

The man smiled at Sirius before turning away and heading downstairs, through a door behind the altar and the place where the choir would sit.

When he was alone again, Sirius looked around and eyed the piers.

Gerbera daisies.

Those were the flowers Lily and James and Remus and him had arrived early to decorate the church with, for Harry's Christening. Peter had been late, told them that his mother was doing poorly again but really who knew where he'd been, but they'd had gerbera daisies. He'd nearly forgotten that—he had, actually. A few weeks ago, Sirius may not have been able to remember what colour the flowers had even been, even if they had so clearly been yellow—bright yellow, like Lily's favourite sundress or his old flat's bathroom walls or the Hufflepuff Quidditch robes. This place had been so yellow, dripping with gerbera daisies. They'd gone a little overboard, but it had looked pretty nice.

He wondered who was going to tell Harry. Because Harry was still out there, even if the flowers weren't here and Lily and James weren't anywhere at all.

He was gone before the man, the reverend or priest or something, came back.


End file.
